


the half-light of morning

by winter_hiems



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort No Hurt, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Morning Kisses, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recovery, Sappy, Sharing a Bed, Soft Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Soft Martin Blackwood, Spooning, Tenderness, soft, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_hiems/pseuds/winter_hiems
Summary: After the world is put right, Jon and Martin spend the morning together.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	the half-light of morning

Martin wakes first. This isn’t unusual; these days, Jon sleeps heavily. God knows he’s earned it. 

He spends a few minutes just lying there, curled around Jon, breathing in the scent of his lover’s hair, but something in him wants to get up, so he does, getting out of bed slowly and carefully so that there’s no risk of waking Jon. Now standing, he tucks the covers back around Jon. The room is warm, but Jon’s always felt the cold more than he does. He still has a habit of stealing Martin’s sweaters, and Martin lets him because they’re so much bigger on Jon, he looks adorable. 

In the hallway Martin catches sight of himself in the mirror – sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair a mess – before turning into the kitchen. 

He fills up the kettle and leans against the counter, waiting for it to boil. 

Their apartment is nice, by far the nicest place he’s ever lived. After some… creative bookkeeping on Martin’s part, he and Jon now possess a sizeable chunk of the fortunes that once belonged to Peter Lukas and Elias Bouchard, so a flat that Martin would previously have described as ‘unattainable’ is now well within their price range. 

After the world was turned back, they’d talked about where they wanted to live, whether they should move back up to Scotland. But in the chaos of England after what its residents have dubbed the ‘Change’, travel wasn’t easy and there was quite a lot to keep them in London, so this is where they live, at least for now. 

With the kettle boiled he makes the tea: two mugs, a teabag in each, a splash of milk once it’s steeped enough. 

He carries the mugs back to the bedroom, and finds Jon sitting up in bed. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

Jon smiles. “I think so, but that’s alright.” 

Martin sits on the bed and passes Jon a mug – they take their tea the same way, so it doesn’t matter which. 

He watches Jon drink the tea, and sips his own. 

Jon looks wonderful these days. (Though he was always handsome, always had the ability to take Martin’s breath away.) The grey hairs and the worry lines and the scars are still there, but the tension is gone from his body. He no longer has the fate of the world weighing on him, a source of constant stress which is gone forever now. Happiness suits him. Being in love makes him glow. 

“You’re allowed to wake me up, you know,” says Jon, proving that just because he can’t Know things anymore, doesn’t mean that he can’t still figure out what Martin’s feeling: in this case, a little bit of guilt. 

“I know. I just remember how tired we were for – for basically five years. How tired you were, especially. I want to let you rest.” 

Jon shoots him another smile. “I am resting.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Martin leans across the bed and kisses him, and Jon laughs, “No, not while I’m holding tea!” so Martin snatches a quick kiss on Jon’s cheek before he pulls back again. 

Jon has managed to avoid spilling tea on the Ghost Hunt UK t-shirt that Melanie gave him. (“Ugh, just take it, I’ve shut down the online store so it’s either giving them away or chucking them in the bin.”) 

It’s not quite as big on Jon as it used to be. Over the years of watching Jon overwork himself day in, day out, it had been almost easy to think that looking starved was Jon’s natural state, to the point where a photo Georgie had of her and Jon at uni was something of a surprise: there had been a time when Jonanthan Sims didn’t look like he was about to keel over from hunger. 

After the world was fixed, Jon had actually spent a good couple of weeks losing weight, used to getting all the sustenance he needed from statements, forgetting that he needed food again. Eventually Martin had realised that he could see Jon’s ribs through his shirt, and had taken Jon aside for a talk. 

In the end, they set phone reminders to make sure that Jon ate three meals a day. 

Jon doesn’t need the phone reminders anymore. After a year, human needs have become routine to him again. 

Martin could still remember the first time he’d hugged Jon and felt something other than starved skin and bone. He’d practically cried with relief. Jon looks healthy, these days, his cheeks no longer hollow. He’s stronger, too. Collapsing from overexertion is a thing of the past. One more thing that Martin doesn’t have to worry about. 

It had taken Martin a long time to get used to that: there were no avatars anymore, no entities feasting. No constant threat. Just him and Jon, living their lives in a world that’s piecing itself back together from the wreckage. 

“You look thoughtful,” says Jon. 

Martin smiles. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular.” 

“Well, in that case you won’t mind me interrupting your thoughts to tell you that you need a haircut.” 

Done with his tea, Jon sets the mug on the bedside table and sits forward, ruffling Martin’s curls with one hand. 

“Hey!” says Martin, putting down his own mug. “Besides, it’s not like you can talk.” 

Jon let Martin trim his hair a few months ago, but it still goes down past his shoulders. Martin runs his fingers through it, enjoying the small noise of appreciation that Jon makes at the touch. 

Leaning closer, Martin kisses Jon. They keep kissing, then Jon falls backwards until he’s lying back on the bed, Martin propped up over him, both of them laughing. 

“Come here,” says Jon, softly, happily, so Martin does, Jon’s fingers tangling in his hair as they kiss again. 

The morning light coming through the curtains makes the whole room soft and golden, and all is right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried so hard to capture Jon’s audible smiles here. I just wanted them to be soft and happy and in love.
> 
> This fic is based off a drawing by dudeiwannasleep on tumblr: https://dudeiwannasleep.tumblr.com/post/644253394193825792/idk-what-to-call-these-other-than-misc specifically the Jon in the top-left of the first picture.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not making money from this work.


End file.
